


Sherlock's Letters

by rachel_hk1



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel_hk1/pseuds/rachel_hk1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from a Tumblr friend (Renntastic):</p><p>"Sherlock prompt where John finds a file of love letters Sherlock has written him but never intended to give him and John had no idea how Sherlock felt so finally he decides to write one back and he tucks it into the file for Sherlock to find the next time he goes in there."</p><p>This is what happens when I don't wanna do school work!</p><p>The characters are not mine (though I wish they were). They are Conan Doyle's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Letters

      “Sherlock! Where the hell did you put my book?!”  
      John fumbles around the flat, scouring through the mess of experiments and tossed items on tables and chairs. Sherlock has been extremely distracted the past few weeks and when John comes home from work there always seems to be more of a mess than when he left in the morning.  
      John hears Sherlock’s muffled yelling through the bedroom door, “Don’t know. Don’t care!”  
      Dammit, Sherlock! John’s initial reaction is to pound down the door and drag his infuriating flat mate out to look for it. Sherlock has made the mess therefore he should be the one to find his bloody book.  
Before he can even get through the kitchen, Sherlock’s door opens and the man himself brushes past him to put on his coat.  
      “I’ll be off. Molly has an experiment ready for me at Barts.”  
      “Oh, no you don’t! You will help me find my book!”  
      Sherlock smirks as he puts on his scarf, “There are better books for you to read, John. We have plenty in the flat.”  
      John has no chance of replying because Sherlock is already dashing down the stairs and is out the door in three seconds flat. John sighs in an attempted to calm himself but his frustration doesn’t seem to diminish even slightly.  
 _I bet that little tit hid it in his room_ , John thinks and he quickly makes his way into Sherlock’s bedroom. It looks like a bomb went off with clothes and papers scattered all over the floor. John shakes his head as he makes his way to the closet only to find even more of a mess of clothes and objects in a big heap behind the doors. _The man may be a genius but he sure can’t keep anything clean or organized_ , John thinks as he begins to dig a bit through the mass.  
      Nothing showing up there, he makes his way around the floor, pushing things around to see if Sherlock had tossed it into the chaos. When he makes it to the edge of the bed he peeks underneath and is surprised to find a red shoebox.  
John knows he shouldn’t go through Sherlock’s private things but his curiosity gets the better of him and he grabs the box to pull it out into the open. Inside are multiple envelopes…with just John’s name scrawled on them. John furrows his brow and pulls the first one out. John knows that it’s definitely Sherlock’s writing and he pulls out the letter from within.

_My Dear John,_

 

_It’s been 26 days since I recognized how much I truly care for you. You, the man who is always by my side, seeing everything I may not. You complete me. It seems extraordinary that for the majority of my life I have never thought that I could feel sentiment for anyone. And yet here you are, proving me wrong. It’s not the first time I’ve been proven wrong but it is the first time that I haven’t minded that I was mistaken._  
 _I will never give these letters to you. Your sexuality secured, I know you would find them trivial. You might also become uncomfortable with the idea that your flat mate shares certain intimate thoughts about you. Therefore I will keep these hidden so that you might never know about my true feelings for you._

 

_I love you, John Hamish Watson._

 

      John reads through the letter once more, a hand over his gaping mouth in shock. His arms finally drop, the letter still lightly grasped between his fingers.  
      “Sherlock…he,”  
      John’s mind swirls with thoughts of the past month and Sherlock’s strange attitude. Sure, Sherlock hadn’t done much. A case here and there but he definitely seemed distracted by something. John had noticed it at first but Sherlock had brushed off his pestering and the good doctor dropped the subject. However John would have never thought that he was the cause of Sherlock’s befuddlement.  
      John slips the letter back into the envelope and sets it aside before grabbing the next one at the top of the pile.

 

_My Dear John,_

 

_I have frustrated you again today. My mind is always racing and, though my deductions may be accurate, they seem to irritate you when I forget about frivolities such as “hurting other’s feelings.” I wish I could help you understand that it’s not about them. I’m always trying to impress you yet I can’t ever seem to get it right. I love hearing your praise and I would never silence you from expressing your admiration. I only wish I knew how to reciprocate such devotion because you are twice the man I shall ever be._

 

_I am forever yours._

 

      John slowly makes his way through the letters, pausing to smile at the romantic and poetic ways Sherlock expresses his sentiments. John knew that Sherlock cared but seeing it written out…and to _him_.  
      When John finishes, he places all of the letters back into the box and puts the lid back on top. He sits for a moment, pondering what he should do. Should he tell Sherlock that he had found them? Knew his true feelings for John?  
      After a moment of thought, a smile creeps across his face. Grabbing the box, he makes his way into the kitchen, pulls out paper and pen, and begins to write.

 

 

 

      Hours later in the evening, Sherlock reenters 221B and trots up the steps. His experiment had gone well and he was excited to hear what Molly would be able to find during the extra tests. Unfortunately, those would take a few days so Sherlock had decided to return to the flat.  
      He is momentarily stunned when he finds the red shoebox on the coffee table. He knows he wouldn’t ever leave it out in the open like this yet there it sits. He quickly removes his jacket and scarf then approaches the table with hesitant steps. After sitting down on the couch, he removes the lid to find the top envelope with his name on it.  
     He knows it’s John’s writing and he can feel his heart beating in his skull as he gently pulls it from the box. Slowly, he removes the letter from within and begins to read.

 

_Sherlock,_

 

_For a man who doesn’t approve of sentiment, you definitely know how to write it eloquently. Yes, I read through them all. I cannot tell you what is going through my mind except that you must have missed something that only I could see._  
 _You missed the fact that I share the same sentiment for you. You have always been special to me and I should have recognized it sooner. I hope you will continue to share them with me because I can’t imagine sharing it with anyone but you._

 

_I love you, Sherlock Holmes._

 

      Sherlock drops the letter and rushes up the stairs to John’s room. He finds John asleep, nestled under the covers. Kind, loving, brilliant John. Sherlock smiles and removes his shoes along with most of his clothing, leaving only his boxers and socks. He slowly makes his way to the empty side of the bed and quietly slips underneath the covers. John rustles and snuggles towards the warmth of Sherlock, his face burrowing into the detective’s neck. Sherlock wraps his arms around John, his John, and closes his eyes, falling asleep with a smile on his lips.


End file.
